Hope
by sweet like chocolate
Summary: Hope. It's what keeps us going when we are tired. It keeps us up when we are down. He has reached a low point in life- what will do to keep hope alive? Jack POV MS


**Hope**

**By sweet like chocolate**

**Disclaimer: **Don't own WAT. If I did the UK would have Season 3 by now (grr)

**Rating: **G- I guess- could be PG

**A/N** My first WAT fic (gasp). Just something that's been lingering around my mind since the end of season 2. Jack POV MS. It's not exactly AU, for all we know- this could have happened! Please review….pretty please :)

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_Hope. An interesting emotion. What is hope? The Oxford English Dictionary says:_

_Hope/hõp/ n. v. / n 1- expectation and desire combined e.g. for a certain thing to occur. 2a- a person, thing, or circumstance that gives cause for hope. b- ground of hope, promise. 3- what is hoped for. 4- archaic, a feeling of trust. v. 1- feel hope 2- expect and desire 3- feel fairly confident._

_Can we really categorise such a complex emotion into that simple a definition? The Ancient Greeks believed Hope, or Eltis, was a gift from Prometheus. Prometheus had disobeyed Zeus- the leader of the Gods, by giving mankind fire. Zeus punished mankind by giving Pandora, the first woman, a box containing all the evils in the world- both of mind and body. In a moments curiosity she opened the box, unleashing all this on to man. Full of remorse she quickly shut the box, but a small voice implored her to let it out. It was Hope; Prometheus' last gift to mankind- to help them survive when all else seemed dark._

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The first thing he feels is betrayal. Betrayal so deep it seems to penetrate every cell of his body. It pours through him, morphing to resentment, anger, even hate. He resents the fact she still blamed him. He is angry that she has given up hope when he has tried so hard. He hates her for taking away his daughters.

The next feeling is sorrow. So much sorrow. Sorrow like an immense wave wiping out all that lies before it. Sorrow that so much time; so much love can end like this, with silence- endless, onward stretching silence. Silence.

The last sense, a tickle at the edges of his mind, but enough to bring a spark of light, is hope. Hope that she didn't mean it, hope that she will look in her heart and find the love he is sure is buried there. Hope that she can be human and see how she is tearing him apart. Hope, just hope.

And then, because he was only human, he thinks of Sam. He thinks of their affair, and how in his own way, he loved her, although he is unsure if he is even capable of love. He thinks of Sam, and he knows, without knowing how, that she will understand, will offer him comfort, friendship, and he needs that more than anything tonight. He believes that she has remained frozen, her feelings for him still as fresh and radiant as when they were just born.

So he drives. He drives in New York and tries to forget. He notices the people, wondering who will miss them when they are gone. Will he end up working one of their cases? Except he is no longer in charge- that is Vivian's job now. This leads him to himself- would anyone notice if he disappeared now? The team think he is in Chicago, and Maria will expect him to be silent for a few days- taking time to regroup, lick his wounds, before the real battle begins.

So he is left with the awful realisation that no one would know. He could disappear, and no one would notice, at least not until it was too late. It is incredibly humbling- to recognise your own insignificance in the world, and terrifying all the same. He pushes the pedal down slightly- longing to get to someone who will reassert he has a place in the world, that he is not so terribly insignificant.

He draws up outside her building. He sees the taxi but does not take it in. He turns off the lights, sits for a moment. Is he sure he wants to do this? The answer is clear in his mind. He has to do this, because all that he thought was solid in his world has crumbled, and the only branch left to catch is her. If he misses he will end up bruised and alone on the ground. He does not want that to happen.

He makes to exit the car, but stops. He sees her exit the taxi, blonde hair lighting up the darkness around her. She is smiling, he realises, smiling hard. She is beautiful to watch, almost untouchable.

He does not expect what happens next.

She turns, stretches out her hand, the smile still gracing her face. In slow motion he sees brown hair, blue eyes, youth. He sees Martin and the smile on his face is every bit as large as hers.

As their fingers intertwine in a manner that is only natural, he feels his heart, so battered and bruised, begin to crack open. He imagines himself in Martin's place, holding her hand, and in a minute of stark reality, he knows that they never looked so peaceful, so at ease. The harsh truth was he never held Samantha Spade's hand. He never sat with her on a bench in the sun, never spun her around, never told her how important she was to him.

In the moment of reality, he sees the future Sam smile at the future Martin with the same smile as she wears on her face now. He sees the openness between them. He sees love.

He cannot stop what is already written. So he knows he will leave. Leave them to their future of smiles.

He chances one small look back. Martin has drawn her close outside the building. He knows he should not be watching this, that this should be sacred to them, but he cannot stop himself. He needs the proof that they are right.

He watches as Martin bends down, and she reaches up, and then they pause. They pause, and he can see their breath mingle, clouds of steam in the cold air. He cannot see who initiates it, but soon their lips are just touching, just enough to taste the others softness. He watches as they begin to kiss gently. He can see as their mouths merely brush, lightly assuring each other of affection. He can see as they break, foreheads resting together in a language that speaks of completeness.

He watches Sam open the door, memorizes the smile on her face once more, before they are gone, heading towards the future that he has no part in.

He feels himself falling, he has missed his branch and the ground rushes to meet him.

But it is not as hard as he imagined. He looks down, tries to see what has cushioned his fall.

It is hope.


End file.
